A Killer Suitcase
by EpsiLone
Summary: *COMPLETE* A young Elizabeth picks up the wrong suitcase by mistake and finds herself in a compromising situation as a result of the mix up. A Liason AU short story. (Part 2/2)
1. Part 1

_A/N: I'm back! But just for a short piece. I hope you like it :)._

 **A Killer Suitcase**

 **Part 1**

Such a long day it had been. With my usual luck, my flight had been delayed, more than three hours, leaving me with no other option but to restlessly wait at the airport terminal with not much to do but window shop and read fashion magazines cover to cover. Finally the Port Charles flight had been called for boarding and four hours later I was landing. As much as I had enjoyed taking a break to visit my parents for a few days, I was pretty glad to be home.

So glad I was to get back to my simple life, the life Mr. and Mrs. Webber had not failed to qualify as underachieving. _"Elizabeth don't you want more for yourself? Look at your brother and your sister… blah blah blah."_ They had said to me, but I had mastered the art of pretending to listen to their well intentioned but destructive comments. I already knew I was considered the black sheep of the family, the one who had shamed our name by going on to study art and who was now working as a waitress to pay her bills instead of being more of a Meredith Grey saving lives in breakthrough surgery.

But honestly I was never fond of opening people up anyway; all I ever needed was a paintbrush and a blank canvas to make myself happy. And I was happy with my simple life, no matter what my parents thought of it.

I was waiting arms crossed for the baggage carousel to start moving. Finally it began rolling and luckily, the black suitcase I had borrowed from my dad after the handle on my old beat-up travel bag broke, was one of the first to appear. I struggled to pull it off the belt while I could swear it felt heavier than before but I attributed to bad memory.

In no time I was hopping in the underground and forty-five minutes later, finally home. I had missed my studio so much. It was tiny, had a bit of a humidity problem and I could hear all my neighbors' arguments but it was my home. I was very tempted to crash on the sofa-bed and just relax given it was already so late, but I convinced myself it was probably wiser to unpack first or it wouldn't get done for another week.

"Come on Liz! Don't be lazy." I told myself out loud to gather some courage and then went to open the bag. That's when I realized there was a lock on it. I never locked my suitcase, and could not remember my dad doing it for me before I took off for the airport. I double-checked the suitcase to make sure it was mine then looked for the airline tag only to remember I had trashed it at the airport.

"Oh shit!" I immediately exclaimed. Had I taken some random person's bag home?

"Crap!" I then said, as I inspected the luggage. I was a hundred percent sure it was the same bag in which I had packed my things earlier, what were the odds that someone would have the exact same suitcase? Maybe my father really had locked it and forgot to give me the key? That would be simply crazy I thought, but I wouldn't know for sure until I opened the bag. Just to be sure, I convinced myself.

I grabbed a hairpin and in a trick I learned from my thrilling teenage years I forced the lock. I was pretty happy to know I hadn't lost what I considered to be quite the useful skill.

I unzipped the bag, fueled with curiosity about what I would find inside and was quickly able to confirm that there had definitely been a mix up as I was in possession of someone else's belongings. Someone who very much fancied black, I thought as I gently looked through the dark clothes it contained.

Under the few neatly folded black shirts and pants was a locked case; which I could have sworn looked like a riffle case, like the ones you can see in spy movies. Or was it purely my imagination? In all fairness, it could also have been a music instrument. It was locked too, but I decided I had already gone too far in my snooping. Now what?

My best bet was to call the airline, which I immediately did, but was placed on hold interminably. I was stuck with someone else things while my clothes, which I happened to like very much, were lost out there somewhere. So I waited patiently, while I alternated between biting my nails and my lips, as I listened to the unnerving standby music. And suddenly a loud knock at the door startled me. It was past midnight and I wasn't expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" I yelled, knowing whoever was at the door would have no problem hearing me given how thin my walls were.

I didn't get a reply and thought now was not the time for whomever that was to play hide and seek with me. I had to figure out where my bag was and make sure the person who owned the black clothes could get their stuff back. So I hung up the phone and walked to the door. I looked through the eye but no one was there. So I opened to poke my head out and before I knew it, a man dressed in all black lounged at me and pushed me back inside my studio, closing the door behind him.

I had dropped the phone. My legs were shaking with fear.

"Wh… wh… who are you? What do you want?" I asked the tall man; that was just before I noticed he was holding a gun in his right hand. "Oh… oh ok…" I instinctively put my hands up.

"Sit down!" He firmly ordered me and I did what he asked without thinking twice, the gun was a very persuasive argument.

"Is this about the bag?" I said looking towards what I considered must have been the reason for the sudden intrusion. "Look, it was a simple mistake, I promise. I didn't mean to steal your stuff... I mean not steal; steal is the wrong word… I…"

"Who do you work for?" He interrupted me. "What were you looking for?" I guess my rambling didn't go over so well. He then went to inspect the bag, which I had left opened. Stupid me!

"No one… nothing! I was just on vacation for a few days, I went to visit my parents they live in Colorado." I wasn't even sure why I was volunteering the hostile stranger personal details about my life.

"Stop talking. Just tell me, who asked you to take this bag?" He asked, as he made sure nothing was missing, the gun still pointed at me.

I wondered how I could stop talking and answer his question at the same time, but didn't want to piss him off, as the man seemed a bit paranoid. "No one, it was an honest mistake. I promise, I'm not part of whatever conspiracy you seem to think is against you." I said, while tears started forming in my eyes. I was scared for my life.

"And you opened a bag that didn't belong to you by mistake too?" His gaze was cold and unforgiving.

"That was just so I could figure out who owned the bag and return it to them, nothing else." I justified… or tried to.

"Right." He said then closed the suitcase.

I decided to use this opportunity to plead for my life. "I swear, I didn't mean to take your things. I was just on the phone with the airline to find my bag and make sure you found yours. Just take it and leave." My voice was breaking. "I won't speak a word of this to anyone... Look, I am a good person, there was only a time when I rebelled in high school but I haven't done anything stupid since then and…"

He turned back to fix me, and only then I really noticed the tall man had gorgeous blue eyes and an equally handsome face. At that moment I may have understood this whole Stockholm syndrome thing. "I believe you when you say this was a mistake, but unfortunately you've already seen too much."

My breathing started to accelerate, I knew what that meant; I watched a lot of TV series. "Please don't do this, don't kill me. I never thought I would die over a damn suitcase... Please, I will forget this ever happened as soon as you leave."

"You could always run to the police, tell them about this, about me being here." His tone kept calm when he spoke, he didn't seem like the kind of man who panicked... ever.

"I would never!" I promised, and I meant it, I didn't want any trouble. All I wanted was to get back to my simple life. "Please." I let out, almost in a whisper.

He looked down at me straight in the eyes again and I could feel that whatever I thought he needed to do, he didn't want to. I unconsciously let out a sigh of relief while I wished he would just put the gun down. "My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth Webber, I'm a waitress, I live a very boring life here in Port Charles, I don't know many people and I beg you to please just go and let me pretend this never happened... I'm really good at pretending."

It worked. He finally let the gun down.

I nodded, a faint smile forming on my lips. We had made progress.

"You can help me."

"What? Help you? I'm not sure that's a good idea… look, why don't you just take the bag and go?" I told him, from the couch where I had been since he ordered me to sit.

"First you need to do something for me."

I cleared my throat as my heart beat vividly in my chest. It took me a few more seconds before I could say anything. "Alright… what is it that you need help with exactly?"

"You work at the Metro Court right?"

"How do you… how do you know that?" I stuttered in shock.

He didn't answer and just locked his striking baby blue eyes on me.

"You went through my stuff didn't you?" I asked, realizing it was the only way he could have known that. I slept in a Team Metro Court t-shirt all employees had received last year. "Unbelievable! And I was feeling bad for opening your suitcase!"

"It was unlocked. Who doesn't lock their luggage?" He dared to tell me.

"Well I don't have anything to hide!" I said outraged and wondering who would ever want to steal my dirty laundry and old clothes.

"Are you always so careless?" He asked with a straight face.

"Uh... Are you always so paranoid?" I retorted then pouted my mouth to the side. Seeing his face I had made a good point. I giggled, he smiled; he had a beautiful smile. "Besides, that lock you had on your bag was a joke."

"Alright, and where did you learn how to pick a lock?" He crossed his arms.

"I said I was a good person, but I have dated my share of bad boys in my youth, and they thought me all sorts of things..." I said then realized the conversation had diverged. "Anyway, what do you need help with?"

He shook his head then pulled a phone from his pocket and showed me a picture. "Is this man staying at the hotel?"

I stood up and took a quick look at the photo then crossed my arms. It was an older man with a head full of salt and pepper hair and matching beard, thick eyebrows and dark eyes. "I could lose my job for answering this question. We are supposed to respect the privacy of our guests so honestly I don't see one good reason to help you right now."

He pointed the gun back at me; the message was clear.

"Oh you totally would have shot me already if you really wanted to do that." I brazenly said, against all reason and strangely enough he smiled. His somber face illuminated instantly. I grinned, and didn't stay insensitive to his beautiful mouth, until my eyes fell on the gun again. I swallowed that grin.

"Look, Elizabeth. You're funny and you're right, I don't want to hurt you so just answer my question and you'll never have to see me again."

I let out a deep sigh. "If I tell you what you want to know, will you really give me back my bag?"

He nodded.

"Ok." I said. "Yes, he has been staying at the hotel since a couple months ago at least, and he's a particularly rude guest and a really bad tipper if you were wondering."

"I wasn't." He told me with a straight face and then added. "Thanks Elizabeth."

"You're welcome… hmm…" I stopped mid-sentence, as I still didn't know my charming but incredibly intimidating intruder's name.

"It's Jason." He told me. I wasn't expecting him to tell me.

I felt lucky so I went for it. "So what's your deal, Jason? Are you a spy or something? An undercover government agent, or a plain old criminal?"

"I'm not going to answer that." He told me, and I could swear I saw another grin form on his lips. He really seemed to like my sense of humor after all.

"I mean, you clearly live a dangerous life, you carry a gun and you've got some pretty unusual things in your suitcase. By the way, does TSA really let you fly with that stuff?"

"Not of your concern." He said and then went quiet. My curiosity was running high, I was pretty convinced that the bag contained some serious artillery. My unwanted guest's demeanor and the fact that he didn't have access to proper law enforcement resources to find out if someone was booked in a hotel made me presume he was more on the illegal side of things.

Then a thought came up to me. "You know what, that guy you showed me… I've always been curious about who he is, because he is always surrounded by bodyguards, even when he comes up to have his usual nightcap. I always wondered if he was part of the mafia or something... is he?"

"He's a pretty dangerous man. The less you know, the better."

"Dangerous… like you?" I asked, fixing my gaze on Jason, observing his beautiful features in details, determined not to let go until I got a reaction out of him. Instead he looked away.

He went to pick up his bag and tucked his gun in his back. "Thanks for the tip." He said then turned around to leave.

The next few words rolled out of my tongue before I could even think them through. "Wait a second!" I called out.

He turned back around silently.

"I… I… before you leave, I could really use a hand actually." I told him while one of my hands played with my hair.

"You need help with something?" He looked perplexed.

I nodded. "Yes… my pipes… Under my sink, they've been acting up for weeks and you actually look like the kind of guy who knows a thing or two about tools… not just guns…"

"You want me to help you with your plumbing?"

"Can you?" I asked, not missing an opportunity. "I mean, I'm sure you have more important business to tend to but that would really, really help me out actually. Plumbers don't come very cheap these days... plus I just risked my very well paying waitressing job to help you so it's only fair you give me a hand."

He looked at me with a puzzled look for a few seconds then dropped his bag on the floor instantly and walked to the sink to inspect the damage.

I could never have imagined how the next half hour transpired given how Jason had barged into my studio gun in hand and looking as if he wouldn't have hesitated one second to pull the trigger on me. This man was now chuckling at my funny comments with his head tucked under my sink. I talked while he tweaked the pipes.

Jason didn't speak much, and avoided answering most of my questions like where he had been traveling to, saying he couldn't tell me for my own good... whatever that meant. He was very concentrated on the task at hand, and would only offer the occasional follow up question like: "Did that really happen?"

"Oh yea! It's a five star but some really weird dudes come into this hotel, I'll tell you that." I answered.

"Then why do you keep working there?" He asked, while he emerged back from under the sink and let the water run to check his handy work.

"The tips are great. Plus unfortunately Port Charles doesn't have a big art scene so my degree won't take me very far here." I told him then smiled. I watched him wipe his hands with a kitchen towel then decided to change the subject. "Quick question, did you really think I had taken your suitcase on purpose? Who would do that?"

He shook his head. "I realized instantly that it was an honest mistake, but you're never too careful. Plus I saw a link with the Metro Court and went for it. Sorry if I scared you.

If? Certainly he knew he had almost made me pee my pants. "And sorry again for taking your bag, I really should be more careful… and what about my stuff?"

"You're bag's outside your door." He told me with a grin then held my tiny hand in his. My heart was pounding in my chest. He finally let go and said. "Take care, Elizabeth."

I didn't know why but I felt compelled to ask him to stay just a bit longer, but I let him walk out, my eyes lingering on the door and my heart still beating vividly while I wondered if I would ever see the mysterious Jason again.

* * *

 _Will Elizabeth see the mysterious Jason again and if so in what circumstances? What's your guess? Find out soon in part 2!_


	2. Part 2

_A/N: I'm really glad you enjoyed the first part of this short story and I hope you'll like the way the second part unfolds. Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing!_

 **Part 2**

A week had passed since my unexpected encounter with Jason and there I was back at work at the Metro Court rooftop restaurant, preparing the floor for the breakfast serving. My mind kept drifting back to the most random night of my life. It had happened every single day since Jason had barged in my studio threatening to kill me because of a simple misunderstanding, I had thought about him every day since. I knew I would never see the sexy and mysterious gun totting man again but it didn't stop a girl from dreaming.

Suddenly, a familiar man crossed the dinning room and went to sit on the terrace. No, it wasn't Jason, but the man he had asked me about. The one he had said was dangerous, I could remember his exact words, even the way his tone had changed when he had uttered these words. Against all logic, I approached, pretending to wipe a table right by the door that gave to the terrace. I'm not sure what exactly I was hoping to accomplish but all I wanted was to know who this man was. Plus I was working, nothing suspicious with that.

"Hey you! Scotch on the rocks." The white haired man suddenly yelled from the terrace, and given no one else was around but his bodyguard I concluded I had been summoned.

"Right away, sir." I politely said, although I was close to freaking out inside. I managed to pull myself together by shoving to the side any tales Jason had told me about this man. Why had I been so quick to believe what he had said anyway? Maybe and even probably Jason was the bad guy in this story. Or maybe they were all bad guys, Port Charles had a reputation for its vibrant mob scene.

I took a deep breath and served the man his scotch given the bartender had just clocked out. I was left alone to wrap up and close the restaurant but of course our guests were kings so they were offered what they asked for, even after hours… no panic. I thought as I approached the terrace slowly.

I stepped outside and felt a nice but chilling breeze swipe through my body then dropped the man's drink on the small table in front of him. I had barely pulled my arm away that I felt a couple raindrops gently hit my face. Only it wasn't rain I noticed once I wiped it off, but blood.

I screamed in horror as I realized both the rude man and his bodyguard had been gunned down in front of me. I was covered in blood and paralyzed, it took me five long seconds to realize that I hadn't been hurt and to think about running for cover back inside, which I finally did. Suddenly the hotel manager and a security guard appeared, followed by a few guests, most likely alarmed by my screams.

I was shaken and incoherent as I tried to explain what had just happened, what I had just seen, or rather not seen. It had all happened so quickly; all I did was bring the man a glass of scotch and the next second he was lying in a puddle of blood, lifeless.

Next thing I knew, the police was here and they continued asking me questions that I couldn't answer. I hadn't heard or seen anything but the result of the traumatic assassination. Finally they let me go, and even offered me a ride home, which I accepted.

* * *

It was three in the morning when I entered my studio and without even bothering to turn on the lights I rushed to the bathroom. I needed this blood washed away as soon as possible. I jumped in the shower and let the hot water run down on me while I tried to relax. But I was still shaking. Images of the two men lifeless were stuck in my head, would I ever forget this gory scene? I feared not, especially not if I needed to work in this restaurant every day.

After twenty minutes I finally decided to take pity on my water bill and came out of the shower, rolled a towel around my wet body and quickly towel-dried my hair. I felt slightly better. I went for the fridge; all this fear had starved me. I opened the door when the sound of a male's voice saying my name startled me.

I turned around and grabbed a knife. "Who the hell is this?" I asked, true panic taking over me. Was whoever had killed these two men here to finish the job? And then my mind finally made the connection. Could it have been… could it have been Jason?

He turned the lights on and I got my answer. There he was standing in front of me, unarmed but dressed in black. "It was you, wasn't it? You did this!" The words rolled out of my tongue while my body trembled in fear. "And I helped you by telling you about this man… I… I…" The words to express what I was feeling escaped me.

"I did what I had to do." He told me in such a cold tone.

"What does that even mean?" I asked aggressively, knife still pointing in his direction as if I had a chance to defend myself. "And what are you doing here?"

"I just… wanted to make sure you were ok." He said, in the sweetest tone anyone had ever said these words to me before; and if it hadn't been for all the adrenaline pumped in my body I would have melted.

"Wait… So you're not here to kill me because I could link you to what just happened tonight?" I was now more confused than frightened.

"You can't, no one can." He said cryptically.

"Are you really going to stand there and tell me you had nothing to do with this?" I challenged him, completely incredulous, it was now more than evident to me that he had just killed these men. He, the man I had been daydreaming about for days!

"I'm not going to do that. You can make your own conclusions Elizabeth."

"Oh… ok that's just perfect…" I let out and then turned around and dropped the knife on the counter. I needed to take a deep breath. He did it, of course he did it I thought, although he wasn't admitting to it, he wasn't denying either.

"Look, I never meant for you to be caught in the middle of this."

"Me neither!" I cried out, still giving my back to the man who for whatever reason really seemed to feel bad for my involvement in whatever he had done that night. I turned back around. "And how did you get in here?"

"How did you open my bag?" He retorted. Ok, he had a point.

"I need to get a stronger lock." I said looking towards my frail looking door.

He nodded. "I'll have a new door installed for you tomorrow. My way of saying I am sorry for what you witnessed tonight… and for letting myself in your place. Won't happen again."

"That's quite an original gift." I told him with a hint of sarcasm, the way I knew to deal with any uncomfortable situation. I stared into his blue eyes and we both laughed, a good heartwarming laugh, and the pressure in the room dissipated momentarily. I realized my wish to see Jason again had come true, only I never could have imagined these circumstances. But then it hit me again. "These men are dead! And I'm pretty convinced you did this!" Tears began to form in my eyes.

"Believe me, this outcome is for the best."

"How do you want me to accept that and know I had a hand in it?" I shook my head. "This is crazy!"

"You didn't, all you did was confirm information I already knew."

"Which led to two men's death. I'm an accomplice… how do they call that, accessory to murder?"

"Nothing will happen to you, I guarantee it."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"Yes… and I want you to understand."

"Why do you care so much if I understand or not? You got what you wanted, the man is dead and you are right, there is probably nothing tying you to it… I don't even know your last name and everyone would think I'm crazy anyway so why don't you just leave so that we can pretend none of this ever happened and that I never met you?" The tears fell from my eyes right then.

Jason stood there and looked at me silently as I wiped my face with a paper towel. I observed him begin to make a step forward then stop. It seemed like he didn't know what to do, or just didn't have an answer for me.

"I'm sorry. I'm not even sure why I came back to see you." He confessed. "It's just that you were so close. I thought for a second that…" He stopped mid sentence, as if he was unable to say the words or just careful not to admit his guilt. I took advantage of him looking away to readjust my towel.

He continued, still facing out the window. "Have you ever heard of Cesar Faison?"

"Who the hell is that?" The name wasn't familiar at all.

"That's your guest's real name, he is... or was an internationally wanted terrorist." He let out a sigh. "This man has killed and ordered the death of hundreds of people if not more."

His words were chilling. The situation was completely unreasonable, and yet I couldn't help but feel enthralled by Jason as he spoke to me in his low raspy voice. I knew I should have kicked him out already and never ever see him again… but instead I listened to him and asked more questions. "So was it personal or is that your job to get rid of people on demand... and why not let the police or the FBI handle him? I'm sure they were after him if he was as terrible as you say."

He only answered the last question. "Men like him are untouchable by the police, Elizabeth." Oh I loved the way he said my name... and then he added. "I really can't say more, I'm sorry."

"I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that you killed these men… And it obviously wasn't the first or the last time you shot someone." I became agitated, all of a sudden struggling to breathe. I was sure my face was turning tomato red too, was I about to have a panic attack?

"Hey, hey… breathe." He ordered as he approached me. He suddenly grabbed the barely started bottle of cheap tequila that was resting on my kitchen table (which I obviously kept handy for days like this). I watched him look for and find some glasses in my cupboard while I tried to catch my breath. "Have a drink, it will help calm you down."

I nodded; alcohol was exactly what I needed I thought while I struggled to breathe. He poured a shot for both of us, and handed one to me, which I quickly swallowed with a grimace. The burning sensation was comforting and quickly my breathing was getting back to normal. I watched him take his without even a flinch and then I grabbed the bottle and went to sit on the couch.

"Come on, take a sit." I told him then let out a deep breath. "My dad always tells me whatever you do Elizabeth, don't drink alone."

He grinned then joined me with his empty glass. I served both of us a refill then told him. "So this is what's going to happen… you are going to tell me more stories about the horrible things this man has done so that this becomes more bearable for me."

He smiled and agreed. And hearing all the horrible things this Faison man had done over the years had made me feel better or maybe it was the numbing effects of the tequila, I wasn't sure but cared less and less. And then the sordid stories of bombings and assassinations turned into more lively tales about his passion for motorcycles and my humble art career but it wasn't until we brushed the subject of family expectations that I realized that despite our opposite lifestyle choices we did have quite something in common.

The man behind the black clothes and the gun was a person I could be friends with, if not more, I thought completely unreasonably. He had a sense of humor, in his own way, and there was a sensibility to him that he seemed to be hiding from the world but I had seen a glimpse of it. I had seen it as he stood in front of me to make sure I was fine after what I had witnessed that night or when he ran to rescue me from a bourgeoning panic attack.

I suddenly decided to ask him something that had been tickling my mind ever since we sat on the couch and although I was most likely overstepping my bounds it wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last. "What I don't understand Jason is why do you do this?" I probed, while my mind tried to reconcile the kind and interesting man I was talking to with the cold blooded sniper who had _allegedly_ taken two lives earlier that night. "You strike me as a smart guy and seeing how quickly you fixed my plumbing you're also super handy... there are so many other, legal things you could be doing."

"I got involved in this life a long time ago, when I didn't know better."

"And now? What is stopping you from changing your life and doing what it is that you really want to do?"

"It's not that simple, this life, you can't just give it up. It is part of who I am now." He said and looked away. I could tell that he was uncomfortable with the subject so I decided to let it go, letting silence creep in the room for a few minutes.

"You know what, I'm starving!" I suddenly declared, snapping back out of my pensive state, as I noticed the level of the tequila bottle had gone down considerably. I decided it would be wise for me to get something to eat. So I stood up, or tried to and stumbled as I loosened my towel in the process, exposing part of a breast... But thankfully my reflexes had been on point.

I turned red nonetheless and stared at Jason unsure of how much he had seen, but from the look on his face he had seen enough. A light smirk had taken over his face, while his sparkly crystal blue eyes stayed fixed on me. Until he caught himself and looked away.

"Um... I better go and put something more appropriate on." I said, praying my face had reverted back to it's original tint.

I hurried to the bathroom, grabbing my Metro Court tee on the way and changed. After a few minutes and many invigorating deep breaths I emerged back. Only Jason wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. "Are you... are you leaving?" I asked him, disappointment could be heard in my tone.

"I better go, I've intruded long enough." He said and I wanted to scream that he hadn't and that he was more than welcomed to stay and that as crazy superficial and naive as it sounded I had found a way to get past the killing and the trespassing. But instead I kept my composure and I stared at him intensely for a few seconds then made slow steps forward to stand right in front of his intrigued face.

"I don't want you to leave." I said softly and then approached even closer.

Jason stood still, his gaze locked on me as if he was studying my face. That fiery gaze made my knees weak and my heart play the tambourine in my chest. Suddenly, he raised his right hand and gently grazed my shoulder and the tambourine turned into full on drums. If there was still an ounce of doubt about what I wanted, it vanished at that exact moment.

"Please, don't leave me alone tonight." I told him as I felt his fingers caress my arm while I gently tugged on his black t-shirt, our faces at less than an inch of each other.

He nodded as his hand made their way to my neck, raising the hair on my nape. Goosebumps all over. I lifted my head and without even thinking met his mouth to close the gap between us. I kissed Jason, a man I knew was all kinds of wrong for me, was he an assassin? A hitman? I wasn't even sure what the difference was and didn't care because I liked it. I liked him!

Given what I knew or thought I knew about Jason, he unequivocally was a dangerous man, but a dangerous man with extremely soft lips and such a gentle touch. He deepened the kiss, making me shiver, we were both caught in the moment as he wrapped his arms around my small body, holding me tightly to his. I held one of his contracted biceps in my hands, amazed by how strong he was, while my other hand slid behind his back.

Wow, I thought as our tongues mingled; he was an amazing kisser who could make any girl forget her name. His hand was now tangled in my hair and the other found its way under my shirt. Chills were now running freely up and down my body.

We took a few steps back and he gently helped me down on the sofa and hovered on top of me, our mouths still intertwined. I could feel his strong body covering mine, he was tense in excitement. He then left my mouth, and I missed his instantly, but as he ravaged my neck, I was quickly back on cloud nine, letting a drown out moan escape me.

And suddenly he stopped and lifted away, I could feel cold air between us and wanted to curse him not to dare stop! He cleared his throat and told me. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

 _Not do this?_ That sounded like a terrible idea. I grabbed him by the collar of his black tee and pushed him back down against me. "Oh we _are_ doing this." I confidently said.

He looked at me straight in the eyes and spoke in a low voice. "Are you sure this is what you want? Elizabeth, because of what I do... I could never be in your life."

I knew what he meant; that he wasn't the 'dinner and a movie' type of guy and that there was no guarantee I would ever see him again after this night but it only gave me more reasons to live in the moment. "This is what I want." I assured him and without further ado he kissed my lips again, even more fervently than the first time. Shorty after, I was helping him out of his t-shirt to expose his beautifully crafted abdomen and he was loosening my pink pajama shorts.

The rest of the night was history. Although I barely knew this man, he rocked my world like no one ever had, taking me to heights I didn't even know I could reach. Making me feel all sorts of positive ways by being rough and gentle at the same time. I was in awe of the man's skills in yet another domain as we now laid naked on the floor behind the sofa, me on top of his sweat covered body.

We laid there, peacefully while long minutes passed, while he played with my hair and I traced my finger across his chest. But like all good things, the moment had to end. He kissed my forehead and told me he had to leave. I didn't whine or beg him to stay, I knew goodbye had to come sooner or later; I just wished it had been much later.

We got on our feet and I watched him dress back in his somber black clothes. "Someone will come over tomorrow for the door."

"Oh... that... you really don't have to worry about it. Thanks for offering though."

He insisted so I agreed. It was now really time to say goodbye and I didn't understand why it was so difficult to utter this casual word to a virtual stranger... maybe the hardest part was giving up on what him and me together could have been in a different life. But there could never be a him and me in this life; that, I knew.

"I'm going to leave you this number." He told me then grabbed a throwaway piece of paper from my kitchen and scribbled on it before handing it to me. It read his full name, Jason Morgan, and a phone number.

"If you ever need anything."

He said these words, kissed me on the lips one last time and then was out the door as furtively as he had entered my life. I stood there, with a bittersweet taste in my mouth and the piece of paper clutched in my small hand, wondering... would I ever use it? Would he want me to call him? What kind of _anything_ did he have in mind? I stood there, my head filled with question marks, thinking that I couldn't have imagined a week ago that picking up the wrong suitcase would have taken me down such an exquisitely dangerous path.

The End


End file.
